


Leader of the Pack

by TheonSugden



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Smoking, mention of past accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 05:46:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3517679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheonSugden/pseuds/TheonSugden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once Daryl gets his new bike ready, he offers Aaron a ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leader of the Pack

Aaron and Eric were offering Carol a lemonade on their front porch when the familiar sound of a roaring motorcycle engine grabbed their attention.

"Took ‘er around the block," Daryl muttered, trying and failing to hide a faint smile as he brushed his bangs out of his eyes. "Works good."

Aaron walked over, ready to give a lengthy speech about how proud he was of Daryl’s hard work and mechanical knowhow, when Daryl shut him up by casually patting the back end of the seat.

"Want the first ride? Figure…you deserve it…"

Daryl couldn’t keep eye contact with him. 

Aaron somehow managed to turn green and red at the same time, embarrassed and flattered, but also completely terrified.

"Did I meet you at the candy store?" he joked, voice so high he practically squeaked.

"No. It was a barn," Daryl replied, rolling his eyes as he searched for a cigarette.

Eric, trying to come up with a polite solution, laughed from behind the heavy blanket he wore outside to fight his cold.

"Not that I wouldn’t be in - pardon the pun - hog heaven seeing Aaron on that beauty…"

"Name’s Roadkill."

"Oh. That’s very…apt. Anyway, don’t you think Carol might like a ride?"

Carol looked slightly startled.

"Maybe another day…" she hastily added, giving Daryl an inscrutable but fond smile, "but not in this skirt." 

Daryl looked from Eric to Carol to Aaron, then down at the bike.

"Forget it," he said, flatly. "Just an idea."

Aaron sensed that he’d hurt Daryl’s feelings, especially after all the talk of outsiders and community. 

"Truth time, Daryl…" Aaron began, glancing at Eric for silent support, "I was almost killed riding on the back one of these when I was 13. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to build one…conquer your inner fears or cuddle your inner child…it’s just that my inner child is puking right now." 

Daryl took a long drag from his cigarette, saying nothing, but convincing Aaron that he understood. 

"I’ll keep ya safe," he finally said.

Aaron looked over at Carol, whose slight nod backed Daryl up more than a million signed affidavits ever could.

Aaron made his decision.

"I trust you, Daryl," he replied, with as much tenderness and sincerity as possible.

Daryl grunted, turning his head to hide most of his reaction to the basic kindness. 

Eric walked into the house faster than a bum ankle would suggest, returning with two old but still usable helmets.

Aaron tried and failed to hide a sneer at the choices of hot pink or eggplant.

"You’re wearing _that_ shirt and you’re worried about taste levels?” Eric jabbed, tugging on the beige flannel before slipping the hot pink helmet on Aaron’s head. He gave Aaron a quick but loving peck on the lips, mouthing, “Be careful. I love you,” before moving over to Daryl.

Daryl waved off the other helmet, instead waiting a moment for Aaron to situate himself.

"Do you mind…" Aaron began, not sure where to put his hands, more than a little embarrassed by the slight tremor running through them.

Daryl answered by putting Aaron’s arms around his waist, whispering, “I gotcha, man,” where no one else but Aaron could hear. 

"If you see Peter Fonda, give him my number!" Eric playfully shouted over the roar of the engine, as Carol offered a quieter, "Come back safe."

As they watched the dust trails, Eric had a feeling Daryl had only listened for the latter.

He sniffled a little melodramatically, from the dust, his cold, being proud of Aaron, being worried for him.

Carol seemed to notice, offering an affectionate squeeze to his slender arm.

"Daryl will take good care of him. He always does."

Eric smiled in return.

"He’s a wonderful man. He still  _feels_  and cares…he’s a real person. If you know what I mean?”

Carol didn’t say anything, but Eric knew she knew exactly what he meant.

After a few more minutes, Carol said a chirpy but polite goodbye, only stopping when Eric had one last question.

"If Daryl takes me on his bike, can I get my hair to look like yours? Please?"

And, for the first time since he met her, Carol laughed. 


End file.
